I am sometimes asked why I commit myself to doing things for others, helping out, when I really don’t have the time. The answer is: I don’t know.
Since I am that most unrealistic creature, the optimist, I just say “Yes” whenever a request (for next week, next month) comes up. Sure, I’ll do it, no problem. First law of penance: DO NOT believe that the future won’t arrive.
To me time stretches like chewing gum. There is always more. Not that I like chewing gum. It’s bad for you since the act of chewing sends signal to stomach that food is on its way down; stomach therefore prepares with acid juices to break it all down – only to then be disappointed. Instead of which the world is littered with hard gum left in often rather unfortunate places. Just as my father instilled hatred of chewing gum in me I did with my own son. My argument being (apart from aforementioned stomach) that it makes people look like cows, only stupid. Cows were designed to chew their grass over and over; and why not? We all need something to do. But a human chewing like a cow immediately makes me think of guess what: A cow. I like cows. I have fond childhood memories of accidentally stepping into cow pats (they are very big and very green) and, when staying at a farm during the summer holidays, of helping to bring the herd down from the alm in the late afternoon – though hated freshly hand drawn milk. Awful. Not least because the milk was the cow’s body temperature complete with at least one black short hair in your cup. Still, in those days one was not allowed to be squeamish and no doubt accounts for why I am as healthy as I am.
Yes, chewing gum. This is what I love and loathe about my brain in equal measure. I start off with one subject, get myself sidetracked, can’t find the map and just get lost. A friend of mine sweetly calls it ” U’s stream of consciousness”. It’s certainly one way of putting it.
So anyway, the upshot is that I find it difficult to say: No.
U
Bitch on the Blog 
I get that. It’s easy for me to say yes for something to do in the future, because I don’t have to deal with it or even think about it now. Our family never chewed gum. It was beneath us. Yes, one does look like a cow. I’ve seen cows milked at my grandmother’s but never tried to milk one. Heard it was hard work. The kids made cow turd cookies once. One cookie was the size of the cookie shit–cookie sheet & looked like a cow pie. In the USA they are sometimes called cow pies. It’s easy to miss stepping on a cow pie, but dog turds… This is my very least favorite subject. I don’t know how it got to this, except this is my stream of consciousness.
Comment by bikehikebabe — February 7, 2010 @ 15:29 |
Bike Hike Babe, so glad to establish once more that we are on the same wavelength.
The difference between cow pats and dog turds is twofold: The former are warm and soft (or, when dried, quite comforting to stand on); neither do they smell. Dog turds stink and are a health hazard: In Europe children’s public playgrounds and their sandpits are now fenced in so they can’t be used as dog toilets. Forget worms when the little ones stick their fingers into their mouths: Dog faeces can lead to blindness in children. Yes, really. In fact, come to think of it, most playgrounds appear to have dispensed with sandpits altogether.
Some years ago a law was introduced fining people for not picking up after their dogs. Tell that to those who take their dogs walkies under cover of the night.
Streaming and unconscious, yours,
U
Comment by bitchontheblog — February 7, 2010 @ 16:58 |
Unconsciously back.
I take the next door’s dogs on my hikes. They bark a lot because everyone over there is at school or work. They never bark when they are home, so these people don’t understand what I put up with (which). Besides killing people with their toxin turds, there are other nasty traits. Tracking in mud, flees, smelling when wet, slobbering, chewing up shoes, demanding to be scratched, knocking you over if big (my neighbor’s dogs are big), BARKING etc.
But they love me so (for the hikes). And it was touching to see the one with a front leg missing try to dig like his brother, but having only one leg to dig. Didn’t work.
Comment by bikehikebabe — February 7, 2010 @ 17:28 |
I like dogs unless they slobber all over me or fit into a handbag or are those calf sized ones you sent me photos of the other day. One of my friend’s parents had a huge Ungarian shepherd (beautiful white curly fur). He was very affectionate and when I came through the door he’d put his paws on my shoulders. At age 17, being a mere slip of a girl, I’d crumble under his weight.
I grew up with a black Alsatian; the most beautiful dog in the world. He was professionally trained. And even at a very very very tender age (I wasn’t even as tall as the dog)I was allowed out on my own with him at my side. Gave me great freedom. Unfortunately, one of my uncles put him up as his stake in a card game. And that was that.
U
Comment by bitchontheblog — February 7, 2010 @ 23:55 |
People with GERD are sometimes encouraged to chew gum. It stimulates extra saliva which is soothing for the the esophagus.
Comment by Cheerful Monk — February 7, 2010 @ 21:06 |
Well, Jean, the oesophagus is a bit of a touchy subject with me.
Not least because my voice is frequently hoarse and sore throats no stranger to me. When my brother got married in 1990 one of the group photographs taken on the day had my father’s best and oldest friend on the right hand line up and myself on the left (the row standing behind those sitting down). A few years later he [my father’s friend] died of cancer of the oesophagus. Unless my parents drop before me I am sure that I will be next to bite the dust (causes unspecified). God knows what gave me the idea other than that he and I were the ‘bookends’. Naturally, I can’t talk about it to anyone since people get really annoyed about such notions. Unfortunately I have had many a premonition in my life. Yeah, well, better live with it and drink lots of green tea in the meantime.
See you at my funeral,chewing gum to be suspended for the duration of the ceremony; that’d be just the thing to finish me off – finally. I don’t think they allow cows.
U
PS Will now google what GERD stands for.
Comment by bitchontheblog — February 7, 2010 @ 23:26 |
“See you at my funeral….” It’s highly unlikely. I’m guessing I’ll shuffle off this mortal coil before you do. And I plan to be cremated so no funeral. They can scatter, or dump, my ashes wherever they choose. 🙂
Comment by Cheerful Monk — February 8, 2010 @ 02:01 |
Hi Ursula, did you know that where I’m living, one of the wife’s duties is to go out and collect cowshit on certain specific occasions for religious purposes? I abstain from that one one the grounds that I’m a Christian. And thankfully, no one has ever insisted that I do. I also hate chewing gum.
Saying no is a great freedom, but we have to grant ourselves that freedom. 🙂
Comment by gaelikaa — February 8, 2010 @ 15:09 |
gaelikaa, I don’t know how you do it. At least, for once, being Christian comes in useful. My curiosity always being on alert I shall find out what it is with cowpats in India.
However, as I observed before: Once they are dried they are lovely, in a warm sort of way. If I had to build my own hut I’d definitely line the roof with them since they keep the warmth in.
U
Comment by bitchontheblog — February 11, 2010 @ 16:06 |
One time, on a hike, a friend of mine collected dried cowshit or cow pies & put them in her backpack, to use on her garden.
Comment by bikehikebabe — February 8, 2010 @ 16:42 |
Bike Hike Babe, it’s a marvellous way of recycling; giving back to nature what nature does best: Shit all (See my answer to gaelikaa’s plight). I myself collect copious amounts of seaweed when walking along the beach. Does wonders for your compost heap and garden soil.
U
Comment by bitchontheblog — February 11, 2010 @ 16:08 |